Eyes
by yusahana6323
Summary: Those eyes... they were his eyes. But there was more to them than Dark Ace initially realized, and the truth in them would forever torture him.


_Hurray, my first venture into Storm Hawks fandom. Er... yeah. Dark Ace, yay! Happy birthday to my roomie Elo! Hope you like the fic. :3  
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Those eyes... they were _his_ eyes.

He supposed he couldn't really be surprised. The leader's kid had never been found, after all. He himself had assumed the boy had gone down with the ship. It wasn't like he had paced the Condor noting down everyone on board. He had seen the leader and his wife onboard, and thus assumed that the child was with them. Any good parent would want their baby with them at all times.

Obviously that hadn't been the case, because there was no mistaking this boy. There was no way this long-legged and energetic youth wasn't _his_ son. The strong, proud shape of that face framed by the autumned hair was all he needed to know for sure who this boy was. But that wasn't what held him. It was those green eyes, those jade depths that swirled stormily when angry, the emerald that flared when determined, the malachite that crackled when feeling mischievous and crafty... that was what captured him.

The leader's eyes hadn't been green – the boy had gotten that colour from his mother – but that powerful range of emotion, clear to read, quick to light up, was the same. The only difference between father and son was the colour.

He couldn't face those eyes again. Not after what he had done. He'd had his reasons, of course, and they were compelling enough to cause him to backstab the man that had been his closest friend. Even with those, though, he had spent months working himself up to it, talking himself into carrying out the awful deed, ignoring all the while the assailing of his personal feelings. It had taken him a long time to be able to hide his true thoughts and feelings concerning his betrayal behind a mask. When the day he had decided on had finally come, he was able to carry out his plan without staying his hand. The leader and the rest of the powerful Storm Hawks had fallen to his strength, and he had carried on to pledge his allegiance to Cyclonia.

But that night, and for many, many nights following, he had lain awake, heart pounding in the back of his mouth, mind projecting the memories of the leader's face in that moment of betrayal, of the leader falling to his death across his field of view. There had been no escaping it; his conscience had simply refused to let him forget it so quickly, despite the efforts he'd poured into simply preparing to do the deed. And then slowly, with time, his conscience seemed to have given up. After awhile, he was able to sleep. The memories came less and less often, until they only rose again at his bidding. At that point, he'd stuffed them deep into the corners of his mind. No point in remembering – he had gained what he'd wanted. Remembering or not, the leader and all the others were dead.

Sometimes he had wondered if he truly was over the guilt, or if he had just grown so used to it he didn't really realize its presence anymore.

Until he'd met that boy.

The horror he'd felt on the faintest glimpse of the child had been enough to make his stomach roil. It had increased the closer he got, the clearer the boy's face had become. All of a sudden, remorse was his shoulderfriend again. The leader hadn't died... here he was, to punish, to destroy, just as he rightly deserved. He had almost considered willingly giving himself over to the hands of the man he'd killed. But then he'd realized... it was just a child, a mere baby, who in any other situation wouldn't have yet left his mother's arms. He had that sort of nature, he could tell just from looking. It wasn't the leader, but the proud way he held himself told all... that spark in his green eyes confirmed it. The leader's child.

Why, the Dark Ace had asked silently, why must I be tortured so?

It had taken his entire being to kill the leader before. And this boy... the leader's son knew who he was. He knew who this man approaching him was. He knew his father's killer, and that look in his eyes said he wasn't going to let that knowledge go. It wasn't hard to see the flash of hatred and anger in those malachite depths, etched into his face. Dark Ace wondered if the boy knew that he was wearing an expression that the leader had always used when he was heartily upset... a face that Dark Ace had come to associate with a stern scolding.

They were alike... too alike.

It was his judgment. It felt like a sick twisting of fate, that he again had to fight with the leader, that he was being commanded again: "Kill him." He had tried to shove it aside. He had done it once, and that had taken all his being. Surely, a second time would be no problem.

And yet it wasn't. The first battle with the boy had been easy enough – young and still inexperienced in battle, even his quick reflexes and wit wouldn't be enough to take out a seasoned opponent. Dark Ace had cut him out of the sky without breaking much of a sweat. He had held the boy at swordpoint, ready to finish the deed.

He couldn't.

He couldn't look down at that boy, look into that face, into those eyes and do it again. No matter how he tried to straighten out his mind with reason, with sharp reproach, of reminders of what he was now, he couldn't see anything but the leader. And, even in the few moments he could see past the ghost of that man, the fear in those eyes as they were fixated on his blade caught him. This boy was the leader's beloved, only child... this boy was far too young to face a fate like his father. It wouldn't be right. Such thinking caught him, and, despite his better judgment, he had withdrawn.

"Since you're young, I'll allow you a lifetime to savour your defeat," he had said, running a hand over his blade and turning his gaze to regain himself. That brief moment was all he needed to tighten the lock on his emotion. But looking back, the boy again was wearing an expression so much like his father's it had hurt.

Kill him, kill him now! his mind had screamed at him as he had turned his back and left. You have to kill him now! If you don't, you will regret it!

He couldn't do it. There was no way he could bring himself to do it again. As he had twisted his head for one last view to make sure he wasn't dreaming, he did something that he'd never done. He prayed. He prayed, within himself, that the boy would run off with his tail between his legs and hide. He prayed that he would never have to see him again. It would be better that way, for both of them. That way, he wouldn't have to be reminded... that way, he didn't have to feel the fear and anger. It was a prayer, though, he knew wouldn't be answered. Not since that boy was _his_ son.

And sure enough, they saw each other again, and again, and again. Every time, Dark Ace went in determined to finish it. If he didn't kill the boy, he would be reminded and tortured for the rest of his life... and someday, the child would kill him. He couldn't let that happen. He had sacrificed too much to get to where he was. He had become a backstabber, a murderer, the absolute enemy for his desires. If he was killed, all he had done would go to waste. If he was killed now, what had he slaughtered his best friend, and his entire squadron, for? If he was killed now, what had he sold his soul for?

But no matter how much willpower he told himself all this with, he still could not kill the boy. The kid was strong, there was no denying that... but even for the leader's son, even if he had been trained with the best in all of Atmos, it was physically impossible for for a child to defeat the older, larger, stronger, far more experienced Dark Ace. At least, it would be that way if he were a normal opponent. But he wasn't; he was the leader's son. That mere fact was more powerful than all the raw strength in the boy's body. And the more Dark Ace fought against him, the less his will came into battle with him. He didn't have the heart to kill this young boy, whose eyes were always watching him. He didn't have the heart to blind those jade gems that whirled with violent emotion.

He couldn't erase those eyes, that were full of blame, and hate, and anger, that only reflected, not revealed.

Panic eventually set in, and his mind continued to scream at him, Kill him, kill him! If you don't, you'll go insane! And he fought diligently, as per his agreement with Cyclonia, but he still could not summon any heart to put into it. He still held back, fighting with a wildly swinging blade rather than the strategic cunning he had come to be known for. He couldn't be the person he had created for this life when he saw the reflection of his true self in those eyes. Those eyes were clear, unobscured by anything such as desire or hunger or emotion. They saw only truth, and Dark Ace couldn't escape from it.

It was driving him out of his mind. Every time he went into battle, he had an internal panic attack. What if he was there this time? And he usually was. Every time, Dark Ace had to confront the leader's critical, angry look... every time, he had to look into that boy's face, and be confronted with himself. It was some sort of odd power the boy had over him. He wondered if the brat knew just how much of a slave he was to that mere presence. He could do nothing but be defeated, be overthrown by someone that was too familiar to be just the leader's son. He was defeated by a will stronger than his own, but it was far too strong to be just the boy's alone.

And then, slowly, he began to know. It was a slow realization, because, he supposed, just as breath comes so naturally, a shadow was so natural that it is often forgotten to be there. But every time, every time, and with every strike and every flash, he realized what exactly Aerrow had over him. He understood with every glance, whether it was angry or mischievous or frightened, as he saw again and again himself crystallized in that pure, unadulterated gaze.

Those eyes... they were _his_ eyes. But... they were Dark Ace's eyes, too.


End file.
